Pick Up the Pieces
by RedBlackbird
Summary: After the break up, everyone's taking sides on who's right, who's to blame. Someone needs to step up and pick up the pieces of this broken family before something even worse happens. FACE family.
1. Cracked Pieces

Matthew tossed and turned in his bed, trying hard to find sleep. He hadn't slept well in over two months, since his adoptive parents had split up. His father, Arthur, had reverted to alcohol as a means of forgetting his ex-husband, Francis.

Suddenly, his phone started ringing, pulling Matthew out of whatever sort of half-sleep he'd managed to get into.

"Hello?"

"Matt, it's Allistor," Allistor owned the local pub, where Arthur frequented. He'd gotten Matthew's number in case Arthur needed to be picked up. "Listen, your dad's wasted and I don't think he can drive home. Have Alfred pick him up or I'll call the cops for public intoxication." Then he hung up.

Matthew shut his eyes tightly, as if that would make everything better. As if that would bring back his Papa, make his Dad sober. As if it would take away the worry and anxiety that prevented him from sleeping and eating.

He opened his eyes and swung his legs over the edge of his bed, slipping out of his bed. He left his room and walked across the hallway to his brother's room, who was older by about five minutes.

"A-Al, Alfred. Al, wake up," Matthew pleaded, gently shaking his twin's shoulder.

"Matt...what, what do you want?" Alfred asked sleepily.

"Al, Dad's at the bar again. He needs to get picked up." Matthew said quietly, biting his lip.

Alfred, suddenly wide awake, got up from his bed, putting on his glasses and pulling on his jacket. "Go to sleep, Matt," he said. "I'll get Dad, you stay here." Matthew nodded obediently, moving out if the way as Alfred went past him.

Matthew went back to his room, and decided to call his other father, Francis, though he knew how angry Alfred would be at this. Alfred believed whole heartedly that Arthur had told the truth when he said Francis had walked out on them, leaving them for someone else. But Matthew knew better than to believe his father would leave.

* * *

"P-papa?" Matthew whispered into his phone. "Papa, it's the fourth time this week. I'm scared." Tears formed in the corner of Matthews eyes. "He's so angry when he's drunk."

As Francis listened to his son, he felt his heart break all over again. How could Arthur leave their sons to worry while he was out drinking all night? "Where is your dad now, Mathieu?"

Matthew sniffed, took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. "A-Alfred's picking h-him up. I don't know-" Matthew stopped himself as he heard his father and brother stumble into the house. "Th-they just got here, and if Dad knows I called you he'll get mad." Matthew whispered. "Please, Papa, help us," and with that, he hung up.

Francis set down his phone and picked up his keys. He wasn't upset anymore, he was irate.

How could Arthur put their sons through that? How he could be abandoned them like that? He was supposed to watch over them, not the other way around. They had to agreed to that, along with the fact that Arthur had full custody over the kids, having accused Francis of being 'irresponsible' and 'a bad example for young men'.

Francis had not been exactly trusted by his children since he'd been accused of cheating, which had led to the split, so he thought it would be best they stay with someone they'd be more comfortable with. How very wrong I was, he thought to himself bitterly.

Back at the house, Matthew exited his room and helped his brother tuck his father into bed. Afterwards, he turned to Alfred.

"How much do we owe?" Matthew whispered. His father was known to order more expensive drinks the more intoxicated he became.

Alfred sighed. "I don't know, but we'll pay it."

"I...I called Papa," Matthew said quietly. Alfred glared at him.

"Matthew, why would you waste time on him? He cheated on Dad and left us!" Alfred said, angry at the fact his brother had turned to their other dad for help.

"A-Al, he didn't cheat. He didn't leave, Dad made him go."

"Matt, you heard Dad! He said Papa cheated and left us!" Alfred lowered his voice. "Don't bother. He doesn't care anymore. We can take care of ourselves and Dad, just like we have been." He turned around went back into his room, voice dripping with disgust as he said, "Matt, just to back to sleep."

Matthew obeyed his older brother. There was nothing else he could do. Until he heard someone open the front door.

* * *

**AN: While I'm on a roll updating and uploading, I may as well upload this. **


	2. Broken Pieces

"Matieu? Alfred?" Francis called through the house. "Is someone home?" Matthew ran out and into his father's arms. Alfred came after him, a deathly look in his eyes.

"Matieu? What is it Cher, what's wrong?" Francis asked his son, who was holding onto him tightly.

"You didn't need to come," Alfred said coldly. "We're fine." He reached out for Matthew's hoodie and yanked it back, dragging the young boy back with it.

"Alfred, don't do that, you might hurt your brother." Francis scolded. "Where is your father? I need to have a word with him."

"He's sleeping. Don't bother him." Alfred answered. "It's none of your business, anyway."

"It is very well my business if my children are being neglected!" Francis replied.

"We're not your children, not anymore!" Alfred yelled back coldly. "That ended when you left us!"

Francis was taken aback by this sudden outburst. He was speechless for a moment, trying to register the fact that Alfred did not consider himself his son. He wondered briefly what Arthur had told him to make him say that.

"Alfred, I didn't want to leave you." Francis said quietly. "Your father didn't want me to be around you, so I had to."

"Don't you dare blame anything on Dad." Alfred hissed. "He's done nothing wrong."

"He goes out drinking a lot," Matthew suddenly spoke up. "And he comes home angry sometimes. He isn't even home most of the time. I don't want to live here anymore!" Matthew admitted, squirming under Alfred's tight grip on his shoulder.

"Matthew!"

"Mon Mathieu..."

"What the bloody hell is going on out here?" Arthur asked, coming out from the hallway. When he saw Francis, he glared. "What are you doing here?" He asked through clenched teeth.

"Mathieu called me and said you'd turned into a drunk. I came to take them back." Francis said, glaring right back.

"You're not taking them anywhere." Arthur's words came out slightly slurred.

Francis looked at his two boys. The last thing he wanted to do was fight with their father in front of them. "We'll talk about it in the morning, then, when you've sobered up and are in a better state of mind."

"No," Arthur said firmly. He wouldn't let Francis take Alfred and Matthew away. If he did, he would be admitting defeat, showing that he could not even take care of his two sons with Francis gone. "Alfred, come here," he said to his oldest, his voice a bit less hostile. Alfred obeyed, walking over to his father, taking Matthew with him.

"Arthur, stop being so childish. You're in no shape to be taking care of children." Francis said, trying to keep his composure.

"We're sixteen; we're fine here." Alfred countered.

"Alfred, take your brother back to his room. Both of you, go back to sleep." Arthur ordered, ignoring his oldest.

Alfred began to lead Matthew to their rooms, but Matthew wriggled out of his grip, and ran to Francis. He hid behind his father, afraid of what his brother would think.

"Matthew, listen to me and go to your room." Arthur said coldly.

"Leave him alone, Arthur." Francis replied, equal amount of ice in his voice.

"Papa, I want to go home with you," Matthew said quietly. "I-I can't sleep and I c-can't eat here."

"Matthew, you're fine here." Arthur said. Something he wanted to believe. "Come back over here."

"Mathieu will come with me," Francis said. He would not let his young, fragile boy stay here, at least. "Alfred?"

Alfred gave Francis a cold look. "No. I'm staying here."

"Take Matthew," Arthur spat. "Alfred will stay here with me."

"I'll be back in the morning, so we can talk about this like civilized adults." Francis said, guiding Matthew out the door and slamming it shut harshly after them.

"Alfred, go to your room, and don't bother me for the rest of the night." Arthur said quietly, voice broken. Alfred obeyed silently. He had never heard his father ever speak in a tone that wasn't confident or exasperated.

Once Alfred had gone to his room, Arthur fell to his knees on the cold tile. He began to cry. Silently at first, not wanting Alfred to hear him. But after a few minutes, he didn't care if the whole world heard him. His Matthew was gone, his Francis was gone. His family was broken, and he was the one who had made it this way. If he hadn't been so paranoid, if he had trusted Francis, if he had only let Francis explain himself. If, if, if.

If he could reverse time, by now he'd be sleeping next to Francis. But he couldn't, and now he was crying on the tile.

* * *

**AN: Whew, I'm running out of steam from all this semi-productiveness. Last update for tonight. 'Night, lovely doves~**


	3. Split Pieces

"Arthur, Cherie? Are you alright?" Francis asked his ex-husband quietly. Arthur had been known to have fierce headaches the day after he had drank. He nodded, though his head pounded and his muscles were stiff after a night on the couch.

"What are you doing here? Where is Alfred?" Arthur asked with a scratched voice as he sat up.

"It's morning, Cher. I wanted to talk about the boys, whom are both at school." Francis answered. He stood up from where he was kneeling by the couch. "But first, I'll get you some tea."

Arthur nodded again, sitting up and holding his head with his hands. The boys. Alfred and Matthew, Arthur and Francis's pride and joy. His children, who had seen him wasted and had had to essentially take care of him for the better part of two months. And Alfred had believed his father's drunken rants about how Francis had left them for someone else, and was never coming back. And Matthew...

Arthur didn't even want to think about what his youngest son thought of him.

"Here, mon lapin," Francis said quietly, handing Arthur his tea. As Arthur gratefully accepted it, he saw the sliver glint on Francis's finger. It was his wedding ring. Arthur guiltily looked away.

"Are you alright?" Francis asked, placing the back of his hand on Arthur's forehead. "You're not sick, are you?"

"I'm fine," Arthur said, standing up. "What do you want, anyway?"

"Arthur, I want you to clean up your act." Francis said firmly. "I want you to stop drinking." He sighed. "I want to come home. I want us to be a family again."

"Well, we all want things we can't have," Arthur muttered. He placed his cup of untouched tea on the coffee table and began to walk away. Francis caught him by the arm. Arthur looked at him sharply.

"Why are you being so difficult?" Francis asked angrily. "What can I do to earn your trust back?"

Arthur pulled his arm away from Francis's grasp. "Nothing!" He replied, equally as angry. "There is nothing you can do to fix what you did!"

"What exactly did I do?"

"You cheated on me, that's what!" Even if Arthur was wrong, his pride wouldn't let him say otherwise.

Francis sighed. "Do you think I would ever cheat on you, mon amour? Do you think I would give up you and Alfred and Mathieu for someone else?" He asked, smiling gently. "I could never bring myself to do something like that."

Arthur looked his old lover in the eyes. He had loved Francis since high school, and had always imagined their future together. How it would be perfect and loving. This fight that had split their family in half, however, had not been part of the plan. "I don't believe you. I don't even think I love you anymore." Arthur answered truthfully, his voice low. "You can keep Matthew, but Alfred's mine."

"Arthur...mon lapin, please," Francis begged. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be losing the man he loved. He couldn't be losing half his family.

"Stop it!" Arthur yelled suddenly. "I'm not your bunny anymore! That ended long ago." His voice quieted back down. "And you are not to speak to Alfred about this. He does not need you in his life."

"You can leave me, but you cannot keep my son away from me!" Francis yelled back. At least, he had to see his son, no matter what he thought. He would not be told he could not talk to his own son.

"He is not your son!" Arthur yelled with new intensity. He wouldn't allow someone like Francis to claim Alfred as his son. "Not anymore! He is mine, and mine alone. Mathieu is your son."

Francis just looked at Arthur. This couldn't be happening, it couldn't. He could not be losing a son and his husband at the same time. But he didn't want to fight anymore. He decided to try and reason with Arthur later. "Okay," he said at last, voice thick with the tears that were threatening to spill. "Alright, mon la-Arthur." Francis turned and walked away. Before he went out the front door, he slipped off his ring and dropped it on the ground.

The sickening noise it made as it hit the tile floor would forever ring in Arthur's ears. It was a noise a finality, a final decision that had just torn a family apart. _It's your fault_, the noise told Arthur as his tears fell down beside the ring. _It is all your fault._

* * *

**AN: As you may or may not know, I've been having some technical difficulties that are preventing me from uploading as mush as I'd like, so please bear with me. **

**Also, I recently realized this story's name is in one of my favorite Ed Sheeran songs, Lego House.**

**"****_I'm going to pick up the pieces and build a Lego house; if things go wrong we can knock it down."_**

**Unintentional coincidences are fun. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, lovely doves~**


	4. Unsure Pieces

"Papa?" Matthew asked as he walked into his father's sister's home. "Papa, are you here?"

"I'm here, Mathieu," Francis called from the study. Matthew bit his lip and kept back tears. He walked to his aunt's study, which his father had also been using. What would his father think about his black eye? Or the fact his brother had only heard his cries, and done nothing?

"Papa?" Matthew repeated, standing in the doorway of his the study. He dropped his backpack onto the ground, as his fingers ached from holding it. Francis looked up from his paperwork.

Matthew, his Mathieu, had a black eye under his glasses, bruises on his body, and was trembling. Francis stood up quickly and hurried over to his son.

"Mathieu, what happened to you?" Francis asked, hands on Matthew's shoulders. Matthew's lower lip trembled as he explained to his father.

"There are a few kids at school who Alfred plays pranks on," Matthew began. "A-and sometimes they try to get back at him, but they think I'm him. And Alfred always makes sure that I don't get hurt because of him." Matthew took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. "B-but today, he did something horrible to someone. And they came after me! Alfred walked by, Papa, and he didn't help me!" Matthew began to cry all over again.

Francis pulled Matthew gently into a hug. "Shh, shh Mathieu. It's fine, mon Cherie." He cooed, but inside he was angry. How could Alfred let his own brother be beaten like this? Alfred knew Matthew was fragile, and would never leave Matthew to fend for himself. Not the Alfred that Francis knew.

"You'll stay here tomorrow, oui? Maybe we'll go visit your father and..." And what? Francis didn't know how to finish his sentence. What could he do to change Arthur's mind? How could he get back his family?

"Papa, they hate me," Matthew said shakily, failing to hold back tears. "Dad and Alfred...they-"

"They do not." Francis said firmly. He took Matthew by the shoulders again and held him an arm's length away. "Matthew William Bonnefoy-Kirkland, your father and your brother love you dearly, as do I. Do not ever forget that." Now tears were beginning to grace Francis's eyes as well. Matthew nodded.

"Y-yes, Papa."

"Lay down for a while, alright?" Francis kissed Matthew's forehead before letting to of his youngest. Matthew walked slightly unsteadily out the door. After a minute, Francis heard Matthew's bedroom door creak shut.

Francis leaned back on his desk, blowing air out his mouth to move a strand of hair out of the way. How had it even come to this? Francis's eyes narrowed on the oak paneled wall of the study he shared with his younger sister.

Oh. Right. Because Arthur was as insecure as a child and stubborn as one, too. Because he had come home late a few times and he ever-pungent smell of his secretary's perfume would constantly cling to his clothes. Because he was not, apparently, good enough anymore for Arthur Kirkland.

"Don't beat yourself up about it." Francis snapped back into reality. His sister, who was only a few years younger than him, stood in the doorway and gave him a firm look. "It's not your fault your husband has trust issues."

"Michelle, it was my-" Francis began to say.

"No," Michelle cut him off, flicking a strand of dark hair off her shoulder. "I don't want you to say it was your fault again. I'm sure you wouldn't leave Arthur and take the kids if you suspected him of cheating?"

"No, never," Francis replied. "I would never leave him. Or take either of the boys away from Arthur."

"Are you going to fight for them?"

"Of course I am. I'm going to go back tomorrow."

Michelle shook her head. "I'll go. I'm sure they've had enough of you," she threw Francis a playful smile, "and how could my sweet nephew say no to his favorite aunt?"

This made Francis smile. "My dear sister, you are his only aunt."

"All the more love for me," Michelle said with a wink.

They both laughed at this, but it was shallow. It was only to relieve the stress Francis felt and anger Michelle felt.

"Michelle, what do you think will happen now? With Arthur and I?" Francis asked. His sister was young, but not naive.

She shrugged. "There are not always happy ending to real-life stories, Francis." She said thoughtfully. "But someone has to pick up the pieces of this shattered family."

* * *

**AN: And we have a title. It was kind of weird for me typing in Seychelles' human name (or at least a popular fanon one) because my mom's name is also Michelle. I almost wanted to type in 'Mickey' a few times as well, because that's her nickname. Ah well.**

**Sorry for taking so long, but I've been busy, (*coughprocrastinatingcough*) but here's your new chapter anyways. Thanks for being patient as always, lovely doves~**


	5. Reluctant Pieces

Michelle knocked on the door, hoping Arthur was out. The last thing she wanted was to have to deal with her drunk brother-in-law. After a few minutes and no answer, she tried the doorknob. The door was unlocked.

"Arthur?" She called out into the house. She hoped he wouldn't be here. "Alfred?"

"Aunt Michelle? What are you doing here?" Alfred asked, appearing in the hallway.

Michelle smiled. The least she could do was try to seem happy. "I came to see how you were doing. Why? Don't you like your aunt?"

Alfred smiled back. "Of course I do."

Michelle opened her arms. "Oh, it's been such a long time since I've seen you, Alfie."

Alfred walked forward and gave his aunt a hug.

"Oh, you've grown so tall, Alfie," Michelle said as she held Alfred at an arm's length. Alfred smiled. This was much different than the emotions towards him had been in the last few months.

"Alfred? Who is that?" Arthur's words were slightly slurred, and Michelle tried hard not to show her disgust.

"Arthur! How nice to see you." Michelle faked a smile. "I wanted to stop by and see how you two were doing." She dropped her hands from Alfred's shoulders and took a step forward.

"Did Francis send you?" Arthur asked.

"No, I wanted to see my nephew and brother-in-law on my own." Michelle lied. "Is that a crime?"

Arthur looked wary. "No, I suppose not."

"How are you, then?" Michelle asked Arthur. "I've heard you've been struggling a bit lately. Is there some way I could help?"

Arthur gave his sister-in-law a cautious look. "We're fine. Who told you we needed help in anyway?"

Michelle looked over at Alfred and gave him a small smile. "Alfie, do you mind letting me and your father have a private talk?"

Alfred shook his head, and walked off to his room. He knew this couldn't end well.

"Look, my brother, your husband, is berating himself for whatever you accused him of," Michelle began. "And you know how much this silly scuffle is hurting your kids? Especially Matthew? It's tearing everyone apart. I think it's time for you to let to of your childish pride and forgive him already."

"Forgive him for what?" Arthur said sternly. "For breaking my heart? For favoring some tranny over me? I smelled the perfume and I found hair strands."

Michelle shook her head and crossed her arms. She would not back down from her brother's side. "He works with women everyday. They could have been spraying perfume around him, and giving him innocent hugs. You know everyone likes your husband."

"I highly doubt that." Arthur said after a moment. "And anyway, if Francis wanted to talk to me, he should have come himself. I don't need to hear anything from you."

"I wasn't going to let him come here and fall on his knees begging for you." Michelle said, trying to keep her anger intact. "Even if you are a father of my nephews, you certainly don't deserve to be my brother-in-law. Francis deserves better than you." She walked towards the door, walked out, and angrily shut it behind her.

Arthur stood there for a moment. Francis deserves better than you. He couldn't let to of that, Michelle's voice so full of anger, and quote so true. Arthur didn't deserve Francis. He pondered for a moment giving up Alfred to his husband and breaking away from all of them.

But those thoughts were quickly sent away when Arthur opened another bottle of rum and began to drink from the bottle.

-.-

"Michelle, how did it go?" Francis asked as soon as his sister walked into the house. Michelle sighed.

"He scolded me, scolded you, and then I left before I could lose my temper." Michelle answered, dropping her purse onto the dining room table.

"Did he say anything?" Francis asked. "About me? Did Alfred?"

Michelle shook her head. "Arthur only said that you should have talked to him instead." She looked at her brother. "Francis, you know I only want what's best for you and the boys. And I honestly think it's best that you leave Arthur behind and take Alfred with you." With that, Michelle left the room.

-.-

Francis paced around the room, finger tapping the back of the phone that was pressed up against his ear. In his mind, he prayed to every god and goddess he could think of that Arthur would answer the phone.

Finally, he heard a small click on the other end.

"Francis?"

"A-Arthur? Yes, it's me." Francis answered, relieved at the sound of Arthur's voice. How he missed that voice speaking to him gently at the end of a hard day.

"What do you want?" Arthur sounded somewhat annoyed at the call.

"To hear your voice again. To ask for forgiveness."

Arthur sighed. More than anything, he wanted to be able to forgive Francis. But he'd need Francis was faithful, proof he loved him.

"Mon amour, you know I would never do anything to harm you or the kids. Why would I sabotage the three good things that have ever happened to me?"

"I don't know, I just..." Arthur trailed off. "Should I trust you?"

"Would I lie to you, amour?"

Arthur thought about this a minute. "If you really must speak to me, I'd rather you do it in person. Be here in five minutes." Then he hung up.

Francis quickly shoved his phone in his pocket, grabbed his keys and was out the door.

* * *

**AN: Just an FYI, these chapters and ones in my other story are going to take longer to upload due to more technical difficulties. Sorry, lovely doves, but thank you as always for reading~**


	6. Mending Pieces

Francis knocked on the door of his own house, hoping someone, preferably Arthur, would answer. After a moment, he did.

"A-Arthur, I-" Francis began.

"First come in, then start begging," Arthur interrupted, opening the door wide enough for Francis to come in. He did so quickly.

"Arthur, please, you have to believe me." Francis began again, inside the house. "I would never cheat on you, I promise."

"Mm-hmm." Arthur picked up the bottle of rum that sat on the coffee table. He lifted it to his lips, but was stopped before any alcohol could reach this mouth.

"Arthur, please," Francis said, gently squeezing Arthur's wrist. "Don't."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but put the bottle down. "I don't know Francis, _do_ I believe you?"

"What kind of question is that?" Francis cried out with disbelief.

"The question I wanted answered." Arthur replied.

"You don't trust me? After all we've been through, since we were fifteen, and you still don't trust me?"

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't."

"Are you _trying _to hurt me?" Francis asked, his temper already rising. "Do you _want _me to break? You're just trying to see how long I'll last, aren't you?"

Arthur was a bit taken aback by these sudden remarks. "No, I'm not. I _want_ to know the truth."

"The truth? The truth is, I love you and would never do anything to harm you, but you insist that it's my purpose in life!" Francis sighed. "I want to work things out with you, Arthur. I want to come back home, I want us to be a family again."

"You still love me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"How could _anyone_ love me?" Arthur asked, tears threatening to spill. "How could anyone love a drunk, emotional idiot like me?"

"Arthur…" Francis's voice quieted.

"I'm not good enough for you, am I? Maybe I should just drink until I die!" Arthur was beginning to cry now. He fell into a sitting position on the couch.

"Arthur…I…didn't know you felt that way." Francis's voice whispered. "You never told me."

"Maybe I didn't want to tell you. Maybe I wanted you to _ask_."

Francis sat down next to Arthur. "I'm sorry, l'ange," was all he could think of to say.

"Sorry won't do anything now." Arthur said bitterly.

"What can I do?" Francis whispered. "What can I do to make it up to?"

"I need you to be here," Arthur said quietly, looking at Francis now. "I need you to be here, for me and the kids. I need you to be completely honest with me." Arthur sighed and looked away. "I need to be able to _trust_ you."

Francis nodded. "Of course. And I need you to quit drinking. I'm worried about you. Will you do that for me?"

Arthur nodded, still not looking at Francis. "I will," was all he said.

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"I… love you."

"I love you too, Francis." Arthur looked back at his husband. "I just need…a little more time, and a little space. Just another week."

Francis nodded again. "Alright, Arthur. Another week. That's all I'm giving you to clean up your act."

"Okay. I will get better, I promise."

Francis stood up and walked to the door. "And you'll let me see Alfred, I assume?" He asked, opening the door.

"If he's still not upset with you," Arthur said remorsefully.

"I'll see you in a week, lapin." Francis said before he closed the door after him. Arthur smiled slightly from the couch. It was nice to be Francis's lapin again, he thought.

* * *

**AN: Hey guys, sorry it took so long to update! But here you are, the sixth chapter! Most likely, there'll only be three or four more chapters to this before it ends. Until next time, lovely doves~**


End file.
